Chapter Four:
Wedding Titbits
(Translated by Threecornerjack)
And here it was: a golden day in August with all its ripe summer day warmth although the air gave a hint of autumn when the sun came up, betraying itself in no further way. A soft wind cradled the old trees in the Weasley garden that was so tidy and clean as on no other occasion, the abundant festive decoration completed. A golden and sunny blue day with the swallows on the high sky diving down to the grey roofs of Ottery St. Catchpole, chasing away again with happy high pitched singing, telling the world what a pleasure life is. A day made especially for a wedding.
It was to be the last day of liberty.
oooOooo
At the moment the church bells rang six o'clock Harry woke up instantly. He had been late for bed the previous evening – they had shifted chairs, laid out the tables, carried flower pots and cakes around (Mrs Weasley strictly watched out that nobody used a transport spell, especially on the latter) – after that a severe unease must have seized him while he was asleep and now pushed him into the new day. He had this feeling of having forgotten or overlooked or misunderstood some important things. Following the four weeks that he had spent mourning Dumbledore at Privet Drive, the last days had been filled with new information and made him feel stunned. He wanted, he needed time to think. And he felt that time was running short. He had to start looking for the Horcruxes. How long would Voldemort restrain himself? And why did he do that in the first place?
Harry stood up quietly, careful not to wake the snoring Ron, stepped up to the open window and looked down on the garden which was still in the shade, the newly mown lawn like a satin carpet with a sweet smell that reached up to where he stood. He could see the dew on the chairs that stood in several rows crammed behind a kind of platform made of wooden boards. This was the place where Bill and Fleur were going to get married today. Harry had no idea how wizards and witches married. But the arrangements in the garden – the natural bower of hazelnut bushes behind the platform, the decoration of flower garlands – everything he saw in the early morning light seemed quite familiar to Harry. It was difficult to think about Horcruxes in this surrounding.
Instead he remembered Ginny – Ginny who had started to slip from his memory in the past weeks making the time they had spent together seem increasingly like a dream. And then, yesterday evening, there she was, a pale, quiet Ginny in a worn pullover of chocolate brown and pink stripes, most probably knitted by her mother and clashing in a horrible way with her red hair. Her face looked white and miserable. Back at Hogwarts, even after Dumbledore's death she had seemed so strong and confident. Yesterday evening she told him they would talk to each other tomorrow and not right away. From that moment on he had only seen her from time to time under the lights partly illuminating the garden before she disappeared in the dark again, carrying chairs, flowers or candles.
What was he doing here? He shouldn't be here any more. Probably his presence alone was endangering the entire wedding party. He recalled the blown-up house of the Dursleys and started feeling hot and cold alternately.
Some of the others in the house began to stir. At ten o'clock a drawn-out breakfast was to start the celebration. One by one the guests would arrive and join in. At twelve o'clock the wedding ceremony was to be held in the garden.
Harry turned away from the window and frowned as he looked at his dress cloak that Hermione had put over his chair. "We left your trunk at Grimmauld Place. We didn't know if you would need it here or what your plans might be," had been her pointed remark yesterday evening. She had not forgiven him for not taking them along to Godric's Hollow.
There had been no time to report or have a detailed conversation yesterday. They had all sat in the Weasley kitchen, eating some soup before continuing preparations. And Harry had even been quite glad to plunge into this cheerful, expectant atmosphere, for a while ignoring thoughts about threat and death. But one thing was for certain: only this one day and then he would leave. He wasn't going to spend another day in the vicinity of people so dear to him.
Ten minutes later he had just put on his crumpled and smelly dress cloak – he had no idea how he was to dress this morning and he couldn't ask Ron because Ron was still asleep – as the peacefulness was disturbed because Fred and George apparated into the room the way they usually did. Their sense for business and their proficiency may have clearly improved since they ran the shop but otherwise they seemed unchanged.
"Good morning everybody!" they called vivaciously and Fred flicked a brown bean on Ron's pillow while he was still asleep.
"Well, Harry, all dressed up already? It's only half past six!"
"I couldn't sleep any longer. Is the dress cloak all right?"
"Mmh. Could do with some ironing – even washing, don't you think?" George asked and sniffed in his direction. "But on the whole it's ok. Take a seat far enough from the Delacours and you won't cause annoyance."
"To be honest, they will probably stay busy being irritated about the central figure. I guess they haven't overcome the shock they had two weeks ago."
"What happened?"
"They wanted to get to know Bill. A first visit, so to speak. Knew him only from photos and Phlegm's probably glossed over reports."
"I suppose Bill's hair and his ear ring that mum always raises such a heartrending hullabaloo about would have sufficed them completely. But our Bill had a bit more up his sleeve this time."
Harry remembered the terrible injuries to Bill's face by the werewolf Fenrir Greyback in that night five weeks ago. To his mind it was quite heartless the way the twins carried on.
"No, we're not talking about his face. But regretfully we had a full moon two weeks ago. The first since it happened."
Harry was shocked. "Then it did get him?"
"We don't exactly know. He went queer during that week, somehow broody, exploded at the drop of a hat. Sometimes it seemed he didn't know who we were."
"Quite apart from knowing who he was!"
"Remus told mum to give him some Wolfsbane Potion."
"At the time the Delacours arrived he was asleep in the upper corridor. He had taken the potion the way he was supposed to, changed his clothes – and then just dropped where he was."
"He spent two complete days sleeping. Remus said we'd have to adapt the dose to suit him."
"But he didn't somehow – transform?"
"Well no, at least not in a way that could be recognized. But you should have seen Fleur, she nearly flipped out."
"Can't blame her," Harry murmured.
At that moment there was a hiss and a loud bang. Ron jumped out of bed and held a hand on one ear. "Are you totally nuts? Heck, I'm completely deaf!"
A lascivious red mouth floated hesitantly between them and then called "Wake up, Won-Won!" with a voice as clear as a bell.
Fred and George cackled away. Ron hit at the floating thing that instantly vanished.
"Wasn't that one good?"
"You can adjust it to say the required name."
"It is sure to work every time!"
"It won't from the third time on," Ron snarled. "You'd be deaf on both ears by then."
Harry felt shut off in a way because he simply didn't feel like laughing. "I'll go and brush my teeth," he remarked in a dull voice and was on his way.
oooOooo
On the corridor he met Molly; she was wearing her kitchen cloak and carrying a silk dress. The moment she saw him, she looked troubled. "Harry – Harry – just a word!" she said and gestured him to follow her into the kitchen.
They were alone at the time. There was an intense scent of coffee and fried bacon.
"Harry, you know you have become somewhat like a – one of my own sons to me. It is very important to me that you are happy, you have to believe me. But, Harry – I do ask you to avoid starting anything with Ginny again."
Although Harry had expected something of this kind, he had some difficulties to answer. "I – we –"
"I know, she told me everything. And I am convinced that your decision was right. She – she shouldn't be close to you now, do you understand? I nearly lost her to – to You-know-who once before. Please don't let him get her again!" There were tears in Molly's eyes. "Wait at least until – until mattes have been settled!"
Harry refrained from telling her that he might not be alive afterwards. He very well understood what she meant, she articulated his own apprehensions. But it hurt to hear someone put it in words. And deep inside there was this dire thought that she might have seen it differently if he had been one of them, a pure blooded wizard … He banished this thought but it took some effort and it always came buzzing around again like an annoying insect.
When he answered, his reply was a little curter than he had intended. "I told Ginny back at Hogwarts that we – that we would have to separate for the time being. She – she agreed to that."
"And she's suffering from it, Harry! Have a look at her!"
Harry murmured something. Yes, he had seen her.
"I have to get changed now, Harry. The first guests will soon arrive. Thank you for your understanding."
But not a word that she would be happy if I was Ginny's boyfriend otherwise, the dire voice inside him continued. If not Voldemort just happened to be after me.
oooOooo
The first moment he recognized the woman next to Percy, he thought Penelope Clearwater had put on quite some weight since she left school. Then he realized that she was pregnant.
"Mum, may I introduce you to –" Percy began in a standoffish way, "– Penelope, my wife. We got married in January."
Molly stared at him, and Harry wasn't the only one expecting quite a row following that. Instead she seemed to have gotten hold of herself and replied coolly, "That's reassuring considering the circumstances."
Fred and George, who were standing near by, sniggered. But too early as it turned out because there was a twitch in Molly's face, and then she rushed out of the room crying.
"Without even telling your family anything," they could hear her sob.
"Were you afraid we could compromise you again, Perce?" asked Fred.
"I believe that my achievements and my loyalty speak for themselves, thank you, Fred," Percy replied stiffly. "And now please excuse us. There are other people we would like to greet."
"Isn't he an awful git?" asked Ron. "What's he doing here – we surely didn't invite him!"
"Come on, let's go and have breakfast," Harry said as he went down the stairs seeming worn-out. He had nearly reached the bottom of the stairs when he noticed that Ron hadn't joined him. "Oh boy, are you coming or not?"
But Ron just stared past Harry, into the milling crowd of guests in the hall below, with an absentminded kind of captivated expression. Harry followed his gaze and saw the Delacours directly at the foot of the stairs and with them Gabrielle, Fleur's little sister. And beside her –
Dressed in a long gown, the colour of blue birds' eggs, another girl was standing there with her family. A delicate, light blue veil enveloped her slim figure. Her exciting silvery blond hair was put up and adorned with several circular clips studded with stones also of a light blue colour. She was so beautiful that Harry forgot to breathe.
"Another sister of Fleur's?" he asked.
Ron nodded. "Fabienne. And she doesn't have a boyfriend!" he said. "At least that's what Fleur told us yesterday."
Harry became annoyed. "Do you think you're being fair to Hermione?"
"Fair?" Ron repeated, not exactly showing his brightest expression. "Hermione?"
"Oh, honestly, Ron! I thought you two had – worked it out by now." Stupid way of putting it, he thought. And – what am I sticking my nose in this anyway!
"Ehm – haven't you noticed how she's been nagging at me all the time? She thinks I'm dim and doesn't miss an opportunity to rub it in. Do you think that turns me on?" Ron finally came down the stairs. "And it doesn't look like great love to me." He turned red and Harry realized that he had stirred up a hornet's nest.
"Don't worry about Hermione!" Ron said wryly. "Wait until you see her!"
A few seconds later Harry regretted his intervention even more. Hermione sat at the table that ran across the whole room and was big enough to seat at least thirty or forty people. And next to her sat Viktor Krum, engrossed in a lively conversation with her. Hermione saw Harry and Ron coming and gave them a glance hardly concealing triumph.
"Now do you understand what I'm talking about?" Ron said even more wryly now.
"What's Krum doing here?" Harry asked in total surprise.
"Oh, he's a wedding witness. Fleur invited him. Seems she wrote to him for years. Hermione was quite cross when she heard that. This ado is getting on my nerves!"
"Harry! Ron! Come and sit over here!" Hermione chirped at that moment.
"Come on, Ron, don't pull out without fighting," Harry said with a grin and they sat next to the other two.
As he saw the dishes filled with eggs and bacon, the plates of toast, the bowls of muesli with fruit – one of which was standing in front of Hermione – Harry noticed that he was hungry. While he lent an ear to Hermione squabbling with Krum and also listened to the comments Ron hissed to this on the other side of him, he ate his way through the pile of scrambled eggs with bacon, mushrooms and toast on his plate. After that he had a look at the motley company already gathered around the table. Every few minutes, new guests arrived with many hallos and loud conversation across the table. The Delacours looked slightly pinched-faced as they decided to be seated on the opposite end of the table, far away from the clamouring Weasley relatives and nearer to Lupin and Tonks.
Percy and Penelope finally came in too and sat down exactly opposite to Harry and Ron. Penelope gave Harry a distrustful glance and then looked away. He noticed that she uncomfortably picked at her food while Percy, self-assured as always, conversed in all directions. Harry heard that he told an elderly Gentleman who was obviously a member of the Weasley family, "The Minister will drop in later on. I will accompany him to London straight afterwards. Oh, by the way," he turned to Harry, Ron and Hermione, "I believe he also has a surprise for you."
"What do you mean?" Ron asked gloomily. "Will he have a bag of chocolate frogs for us or what else? Surprise – pah. What do you think how old we are?"
Percy eyed his brother with a frown. "Honestly, Ron, you should drop this childish behaviour. Minister Scrimgeour is going to be accompanied by a lady he's acquainted to, as far as I know." He paused for the effect.
"Oh, fine," Ron said rolling his eyes.
"An acquaintance you would surely like to meet. If I'm informed correctly – and I assume I am – this lady will be a new teacher at Hogwarts."
"What?"
"McGonagall is taking on a new teacher now?" Hermione asked in surprise.
"Well yes, Defence Against the Dark Arts is vacant once more, isn't it?"
"Who is it?"
Percy was enjoying the interest his remark had aroused. "She spent the past years abroad. She's known to the ministry as a Legilimency specialist. Her name is Hekate Harper," he added with a triumphant look at his listeners.
Harry hadn't heard the name before and Ron seemed in the same situation. But, as in other cases, one could rely on Hermione.
"Hekate Harper – I know that name!" she called and sprayed some crumbs of muesli across her plate. "She wrote 'Interview with a Dementor'. And a book on Azkaban. Hang on – 'Self-abandonment as catharsis' or something like that."
"Yes exactly," added Lupin who had followed the conversation with some interest for a while.
"Well, her interests seem to match the subject," murmured Ron.
"I thought her dead for years. I'm quite certain, I had heard of a lethal accident," said Lupin. "She studied at Hogwarts. Was a few years younger than we were and left the country shortly after she had finished, as far as I know. And McGonagall took her on?"
"The Minister recommended her," Percy stated in a way as though that explained everything.
"Oh heck, I won't survive another one like this Umbridge," Ron murmured.
Penelope, who had been getting more restless all the time, finally managed to get Percy's attention. She said a few things to him in a low voice and Harry could see her glimpsing at him now and again.
"But darling – honestly!"
A few more murmured remarks.
After that Percy stood up. "My wife would prefer another place to sit. Well, that's the way with pregnant women – you know what I mean!" But the glance that brushed Harry was cool. He took her arm and led her to an unoccupied chair as far away from Harry as possible.
"That was because of me!" Harry burst out. "She'd been giving me queer looks all the time. As if I had – an evil eye or something like that!"
A few minutes later Bill entered the room accompanied by a short, chubby man in a navy blue dress cloak with a white frill collar. Bill, considerably taller than the other man, was a shocking sight. Half of his face was a barely healed crater; obviously Greyback had torn a big piece out of his left cheek. The scar tissue had distorted his face and made one eye and one side of his mouth look a bit twisted. But he laughed happily at his guests. "Hello everybody! This is Antonius Merryweather from the Ministry, Department of Magical Rituals and Ceremonies. He is going to conduct our wedding ceremony today. Most of you already know him anyway."
Merryweather greeted the numerous guests with a friendly smile and took the next vacant seat – opposite to Harry and Ron – glancing along the table with a hungry look.
"I suppose I'll get dressed then," said Bill. "Has Charlie arrived yet?"
"He's outside with Fred and George. Blocking rehearsal with the band or something like that," Ron replied with his mouth full.
"There's going to be a band?" asked Hermione.
"Yeah, Taranis et ses Chiens – isn't that a great name!"
"Fleur had them come from France. Her brother Etienne, the dark, sinister looking guy that you threw these longing looks at earlier – he's a band member."
"Ron, you've really got some kind of a problem," Hermione said nerved.
Harry had eaten his fill and slowly the voices and pictures around him were blending into a swirl of sound and colour that seemed to have nothing to do with him. He sat in front of his plate which had last bits of scrambled egg and toast sticking to it and felt as though he was sinking into a cold, dark pit; deeper and deeper. Different voices surrounded him here, hissing, screeching and crazy. It was like an eerie echo resounding from dark passageways and dungeons.
oooOooo
Exactly at twelve o'clock – the bells of the town's church steeple had just rung out the time – everyone left their seats and gathered in the garden. To the sound of violin, flute and, believe it or not, bag pipes Bill and Fleur went up the aisle separating the rows of seats; heading for the front of the stand, toward two fragile looking chairs, lushly covered with exotic carving. One of Bill's former colleagues had brought the chairs along from Egypt for this wedding.
Bill wore a deep blue cloak with silver embroidery, the long red hair plaited at the back of his head; the ear ring that usually caused some annoyance had been replaced by an irregular, shining dark grey pearl. He looked radiant as he led his bride past all the admiring looks and managed an attractive appearance despite the injury.
"Now she's finally got it, her big entrance," Hermione hissed toward Harry the instant Fleur passed them. "Probably the most delightful moment of her life."
But Harry gaped at Fleur the way all the others did too. Her dress was shimmering in a light shade of early spring green and at first sight it seemed strapless and with a daring neck-line until a delicate lace became visible, veiling her neck and arms down to her wrists. In her silvery blond hair she wore a slender diadem – great-aunt Muriel's goblin made tiara, as Harry recalled. Fleur wore this sign of her victory over Molly with considerable pride.
As the bride had seated herself on the Egyptian chair with some effort, the guests quietened down. The official from the Ministry, Antonius Merryweather, stepped forward with measured steps to the middle of the wooden stand and stopped under the garland of summer flowers, facing the expectant audience. "Greetings! I extend a warm welcome to all of you, the Weasley and Delacour families, friends and colleagues and especially the bride and groom, Fleur Delacour and Bill Weasley."
He had a clear, calm voice and spoke in a friendly and very dignified way. "In these dark days with indications of peril presenting a continuously increasing threat, your mutual decision to get married is a sign of hope that should encourage all of us. This should of course especially apply to yourselves when you now join your lives in the uncertain times to come; for you, Bill, it is unsure what the future holds. And Fleur, you bind yourself to a man who is not only marked by evil but also bears a poison inside, knowing that he will have to fight it for the rest of his life. You have both taken a courageous decision to adhere to your love and we sincerely thank you for that."
Merryweather stepped toward both of them. "We would now be happy to witness your unbreakable vow of faith and love. Please kneel down."
As both of them knelt down, facing each other, Harry saw a small table with a glass goblet standing between them. On either side of the goblet were Bill's and Fleur's wands.
"Join your right hands."
They did as instructed. He touched their hands with the tip of his wand. "Do you, William Jonathan Weasley, want to take this woman, Fleur Adrienne Delacour, for your beloved wife, to love and honour until death doth you part?"
"I do," answered Bill. A sparkling, dark red flame wound itself around their entwined hands.
"Do you, Fleur Adrienne Delacour, want to take this man, William Jonathan Weasley, for your beloved husband, to love and honour until death doth you part?"
"Yes, I do," Fleur answered without an accent. A gleaming silver band joined the red band and wove around their hands, linking their wrists like a bracelet.
Love, Harry thought. The weapon against Voldemort. The power unknown to the Dark Lord. Dumbledore believed it's in me. But is that true?
As he thought about love, it wasn't Ginny he was thinking about and even less Ron and Hermione. No, funny enough it was this silly little amulet his mother possibly had been keeping for who knows how many years and finally stashed away in this glass frame.
"Then I now declare you husband and wife before these witnesses," Merryweather continued with a smile.
Without standing up or letting their hands go, they kissed each other in the presence of their applauding guests.
"Remus Lupin and Victor Krum, bride and groom have chosen you to be their witnesses. Are you willing, to the best of your ability, to support Bill and Fleur to cope with the life they want to spend together and to assist them in keeping their mutual vows?"
"Yes, we are," answered both and laid their hands on those of Bill and Fleur.
Up to this point the ceremony seemed quite familiar to Harry although he was fairly shocked that the marriage vow between witch and wizard was unbreakable. Did that mean that if one of them broke the vow, they would have to die? He would have to ask Hermione that question.
But obviously the wedding ceremony hadn't ended yet. When the audience fell silent again, Merryweather said to the couple, "Please exchange your wands now."
Bill took his wand and gave it to Fleur and she passed her wand to Bill. Then Bill raised Fleur's wand – rosewood with the hair of a Veela, as Harry recalled, 'an individualistic wand!' Ollivander had called it – and said, "I want to be your light when everything turns dark. Lumos!" And Fleur's wand really lit up brightly and the light enveloped both of them. Harry saw pink sparkles flashing inside.
Fleur raised Bill's wand with a tense face, paused for a short moment and then said with a smile, "Let me be your water whenever you are thirsty. Aguamenti!" Sparks sprayed from Bill's wand and dropped into the goblet between them, filling it with clear water.
Now there was applause and Harry joined in. He knew that it always was a risk to use somebody else's wand.
"It worked," said Hermione, seeming a little surprised. "Apparently they match better than we thought."
"What's that thing with the vow?" Harry was quick to ask. "Does that mean they have to die if they ever – ehm – break the vow?"
"That somehow always shocks the men," Hermione said disparagingly. Harry was slowly asking himself why she was in such a bad temper. "But if it puts you at ease: no. This vow can be dissolved if necessary. But I think it should be done before the vow is broken. A really good thing to my mind."
oooOooo
After the wedding ceremony a sparkling wine was served. It was pink and threw a large number of bubbles in the glasses at regular intervals, making a noise like a belching dragon while this happened. The bride's mum was disgusted and put her glass straight on the next tray being carried around as this first occurred. Molly must have apologized about a hundred times afterwards saying that she had accidentally bought the wrong kind of wine and didn't even notice how Fred and George smirked.
Harry wandered aimlessly amidst the small groups of people, increasingly convinced that he shouldn't be here. The necessity of finally finding a quiet place to sit and think grew in him continuously. He saw Hermione, Gabrielle, Fabienne and Ron who had been joined by Merryweather who was holding a filled glass that obviously was not his first one. In the company of the girls he turned out to be fairly talkative and boastful under the gloss of professional dignity. His affable smile also embraced Harry as he joined them reluctantly.
"Yes, surely it's always a risk when the people really do magic. Many simply exchange their wands and refrain from anything beyond this symbolic gesture. Well educated magicians usually use a simple spell the way Bill and Fleur did. Water and light are the favourite ones because of the special meaning. And of course that's something you learn at school, simple, as I said. Even if someone is quite a good witch or wizard, one could be a bit intimidated, couldn't one, because of the nervousness and with so many people watching?"
"Has it ever happened that it didn't work?" Hermione asked, remembering that Aguamenti had not exactly been easy for everybody at school the year before –
"Oh yes. Mostly nothing at all happens. Sometimes the person misses the spell so to say and it turns out completely different. There are sure to be some having a laugh, though this is unlikely to include bride and groom. Only very few people dare attempt a really difficult spell; no one would want to spoil their wedding, would they? But with Aurors it's quite popular to call up the partner's Patronus. A very difficult matter!"
"You're Harry Potter, aren't you?" Merryweather suddenly turned to Harry who at that instant would have preferred to leave. He had meanwhile started to hate people recognizing him.
"Yes," he answered in resignation.
The man returned a little smile. "I recognized you at the table earlier on. I was the official at your parents' wedding ceremony," he continued unexpectedly. "I believe they had not yet started training to be Aurors at the time but had the required ambition to give it a try."
"Give it a try?" Hermione asked hesitantly.
"Well, Mr. Potter had no problem. But the bride needed three tries until it worked. Twice she called up her own Patronus with her husband's wand, quite an achievement at that, although hardly anyone realized it at the time. There was a lot of laughter at that wedding. You hardly ever get to see so many unicorns!"
"Her Patronus was a unicorn?" asked Harry.
"Yes, and very nice. Well, there were some nasty comments from a few older guests from the Pepperleaf side. Your mother had Muggle ancestors if I recall correctly, didn't she? And the Pepperleafs were somewhat pure-blood fanatics. They retraced their ancestors directly back to Gryffindor, didn't they? They didn't consider the bride worthy of their last offspring."
"Harry – then you've got Gryffindor blood in you!" Hermione remarked excitedly.
"Oh sure, and a lot of pure, first class Muggle blood! Quit it, Hermione, you surely won't measure any importance to this stuff about blood!"
"No, it's about the ancestry! Don't you understand, you would be a descendant of Godric Gryffindor, possibly the only one!"
"Well, well – I'm not sure to what extent they were entitled to claiming this! They had been living in this town, Godric's Hollow was it, the place where the tragedy later happened? Maybe the town contributed somewhat to a – a kind of legend building." The Ministry official didn't seem happy with the direction in which their conversation had headed. "By the way, the wedding cake is just being cut, isn't it? Let's walk over." And clearly delighted by his adorning company he went off.
Harry stayed back on his own. It was queer how everybody had started telling him something about his parents in the past days after he hadn't heard anything about them, all those previous years.
He didn't feel like having cake and even less after taking a look at Ginny's pale face. The words Molly said that morning hurt more than he had expected. For a while he watched the bustle around the cake counter; then he sighed and made his way straight to Ginny.
"Come on, let's take a little walk," he said and felt his heart beat hard.
"Mum's already got you with her blathering, am I right?" asked Ginny, looking sinister and stabbing a piece of icing with her cake fork. He just nodded.
"Okay." She put her plate down on a table they passed, left the garden and headed into town.
"What's the difference in the end?" Ginny asked sullenly. She hadn't even kissed him. "When it comes to it, she says the same thing you do."
"Yes."
"Did you miss me in the past weeks?" she asked suddenly and straight forward.
Harry felt wretched. He realized that he had hardly missed her because he had spent his time in a no-where-place. But how was he supposed to explain that?
Ginny stopped walking when she got no reply. Her dark brown eyes sceptically stared at him. "Harry?"
"Sure I missed you. But – I don't know how to explain it to you, Ginny."
"Don't bother," was her cool reply.
"Please, we shouldn't fight. I feel as though I shouldn't even be thinking about you for the time being. Do you understand?"
"I understand one thing for sure. You – you don't feel the same way I do. And that really hurts."
At a slight turn of his head he could see a tear drop run down her nose. Despite everything, he couldn't even put his arm around her. Oh great, he thought. I really am the man for love. He clenched his fists in his pockets and his fingers touched metal. Then they closed around something that was round and smooth. The fake Horcrux.
"Ginny, give me a few weeks time. Just imagine I was up against something like the Triwizard Tournament – or preparing for an exam or –"
"How stupid do you think I am, Harry? By the way, exams there are. Final exams!" she reminded him when she saw his confused expression. "Or not?" she added tensely. "Will you be returning to Hogwarts with us?"
"I – I simply don't know." He was desperately looking for something that would lead this conversation to an agreeable end. "At the moment I just don't know how to continue. There are a few things I have to settle. On my own, I believe. And the time we had together now seems so distant, beautiful and happy but an awful long way off. I would like to remember it and think of you but – I'm too scared to do that."
Because I might run away and probably take you along. I would possibly try to convince myself that we could go in hiding in the Muggle world and forget all this nonsense about Horcruxes, Voldemort and Dementors. That was the thought that flared up in his mind.
Ginny was the one to touch his arm. "I think, maybe I do understand," she said in a soft voice. "I just don't like it. But you're right; let's return before Moody and the remaining Order comes looking for us." Her hand carefully pushed some of the hair aside that had grown too long on his forehead and tenderly touched the scar.
Run away, was Harry's confused thought. Away from here. With her. To London. No, better abroad. New York. Canada.
"Come on," she gently said and took his hand.
They walked back to the Burroughs hand in hand. Things had quietened down a bit here because they were all having a break before the celebration was to be continued in the early evening with music, dancing and plenty of food. They sat down under a tree in the garden along with Ron and Hermione and gossiped about how the wedding went so far and about the guests, especially Percy and Penelope showed up in a bad light.
And for two hours they were just good friends on a beautiful summer day.
oooOooo
Dusk fell and the first sounds of the violin came from the stand. A short while later all the guests had returned to the garden and were listening to wild Irish dancing music.
"They must have gotten something mixed up, these French musicians," Ron complained.
"Oh, shut up! I think it's great!" Hermione called and clapped along with the others when Bill and Fleur went up on the stand to address the guests and after a few sentences commenced dancing.
Harry watched all the others dance, laugh, eat and drink while it was slowly getting darker and the colourful lights and smoke mortars from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes illuminated the cheerful faces. He was growing more and more uneasy. The feeling that peril was closing in became more distinct with every breath.
He was wondering if he should go inside when he saw a couple which had just come from the house and was entering the garden. He immediately recognized the tall man with a mane of grey hair, walking like a lion. The woman walking next to the Minister of Magic looked short in comparison but with her vigorous stride seemed to have no difficulty keeping up. She had white hair down to her shoulders but when she came closer, Harry could see that her face wasn't old yet.
He had lingered a bit too long. Scrimgeour had spotted him and headed straight for him. "Good to find you here, Mr. Potter," he said instead of greeting.
He came here because of me, Harry realized in an instant.
Scrimgeour hardly took the time to introduce Hekate Harper, who was accompanying him –
an information Harry would have been keen to have at any other point – and continued to speak, trying to sound friendly. "I need a word with you, Mr. Potter. Please follow me inside. I'm sure Arthur and Molly won't mind if we go indoors to talk."
Harry didn't waste time on a contradiction. Hekate Harper meanwhile stayed outside.
They stood in the drawing room where nobody else was. Music could be heard through the open windows and Harry longingly looked at the milling crowd of people outside underneath the flickering lights. Somehow he had this sense of inevitability, knowing it was over now.
Scrimgeour sized him coldly while Harry stood there still holding a plate of titbits from the buffet.
"Yes, we have to talk," he repeated. "And to give us a chance to enjoy this evening just for a while, I will come straight to the point. I know that you are not so fond of diplomatic ado."
Harry remained silent.
"I don't want to withhold from you that in the Ministry – and elsewhere as far as I heard – there has been renewed talk about the rumours that had now and then come up for years, saying that only a highly gifted black witch or wizard could stand up against Voldemort. I personally think that's nonsense. A baby is a baby no matter how gifted a magician it might be either for black or white magic – such abilities can only be developed in many years of studying and training. No; as far as I'm concerned, you were incredibly lucky at the time that Voldemort failed in his first attempt."
Scrimgeour paused here and Harry wondered if changing from the Aurors' office to being the Minister of Magic had any influence on his capability of building sentences. When there was no reaction to what he had said, the Minister continued and the signs of annoyance increased.
"I want to clearly state that a rising number of people meanwhile seem to believe that you might possibly not be on the right side anymore. It is strange to some extent to see what happens to people who get close to you. People who are amongst the most capable witches and wizards in our society, if I might add that." Scrimgeour was pleased to notice that Harry turned pale and had difficulties trying to hold his temper.
"Are you saying that I was involved in Dumbledore's death? In the death of my parents and my godfather –?"
"We don't want to start getting over-emotional, Mr. Potter," Scrimgeour replied gloatingly. "But I would like to remind you that for the last incident – Dumbledore's murder, Snape's flight – the only eye witness is – you. And you're keeping vital information to yourself, as you have already admitted. You simply denied your headmistress, Professor McGonagall, the required details as to where you had been with Dumbledore – in the light of what happened that's utterly preposterous. I neither understand nor approve McGonagall's reluctance in this matter. In June I already thought it necessary that the Wizengamot should hear you on this once more. You have to share your knowledge – if need be using Legilimency."
The Minister waited until that word had sunk in. Harry stood there with his plate of titbits and would have liked to use it to hit Scrimgeour in the face. "I don't think that you can force me to a Legilimentation. As far as I heard, I have to agree to it – except if –"
"Except if there is a reasonable suspicion for a serious crime. Right, Mr. Potter. I believe you have the choice: voluntarily tell us whatever you know, completely and in detail. Help us convict your mentor's murderer."
"I told who the murderer is. It is your job to find him, isn't it?"
"You put the blame on someone, that's true. But although Severus Snape's past has – ehm – some blemishes, Dumbledore trusted him in the last one and a half decades –"
"Dumbledore was mistaken – he was deceived!"
"– and furthermore, the member Professor Snape was of great service to the Order of the Phoenix. Whereas it is common knowledge at your school that you have an unfounded resentment against Professor Snape – ever since you started there."
"Enough is enough! You –"
"No, Mr. Potter. It will do from your side. Enough of your stubbornness, your presumption. The straw that broke the camel's back was the explosion of the Muggle house yesterday. Your aunt's house, the house you were raised in. Magic was used and until we have more information, you're under house arrest. I took the official order along. You will not leave the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix until you have my permission. Mr. Moody is informed and will escort you to that – well, there at the end of the party."
Harry stood there shocked. Too late, was all he could think; I ruined my chance.
"And I will have you summoned, Potter. You will report on every detail – or I will have Legilimency used because of suspected abetting murder." Scrimgeour measured him with his penetrating amber coloured eyes and then left him standing where he was.
As soon as Harry had recovered enough to be able to move, he returned to the garden. The band played a slow piece and Harry noticed several couples dancing tight, including Molly and Arthur Weasley. He saw Hermione standing on the side, under the trees, and grateful for that he went over to her.
"What happened? I saw you go in the house with Scrimgeour."
"He put me under house arrest. Grimmauld Place. Until I'm summoned. To an interrogation with Legilimency."
Hermione stared at him in disbelief.
At that moment the music stopped and frightened voices could be heard through the mild darkness of the summer night. In the sudden silence a woman's anguished cry was clearly audible.
"Azkaban has been seized!"